Dorothy Garlock

by This Loving Land

  “Jesse?” The name came from Sadie unexpectedly.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked steadily down at the white face until her lips tightened and she tossed her head in irritation.

  “Jesse Thurston is with the army.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so, ’stead of sittin’ there like a wart on a hog’s ass?” Her green eyes met his squarely without flinching.

  During the past weeks, Sadie had become more withdrawn. She was increasingly irritable with Mary, and at times unreasonable. The child was not allowed to play in the yard unless Sadie herself was with her, and her eyes constantly roamed the hills. Summer put it down to reaction and fright after she shot the badman, but it had gone on for weeks now. In the evening, she sat on the porch in brooding silence, staring out over the hills. Once or twice, she had mentioned leaving the ranch when Summer and Slater went to town, but she still worked hard. She was up early in the morning and did her chores and most of Summer’s. Although she was pleasant company, Summer suspected she held back a large part of herself and didn’t share her secret thoughts with anyone. Sadie’s attitude was the one blight on Summer’s happiness.

  “More’n likely Slater’ll have Teresa set up a feed,” Jack said. “Ya know, get out all them fancy do-dads. Its ’bout the only time they gets to be used. All you gals will hafta do is get all shined up and come to supper.”

  “I ain’t goin’.”

  In the silence that followed Sadie’s blunt words, Summer wondered once again at the change in her friend.

  “Of course you’ll come, Sadie. Slater will insist on it, and so will I.”

  “I ain’t goin’ and that’s that.”

  “Why not, may I ask?”

  “Course you can ask, Summer. It just ain’t fer the likes of me to be sittin’ down at no fancy supper with no army captain.”

  “Well, I never! Sadie Irene Bratcher, you make me so mad! The likes of you, indeed! If that high-up captain doesn’t wish to sit with our friends, he can eat with his men.”

  “Ah . . . it’s sweet of you to say such, Summer. But I ain’t got no good dress, and what if’n he’d seen me in the dance hall?” She said the word and tilted her chin to look defiantly at Jack.

  “Well, you ladies sort things out. I gotta go find Slater.” Jack touched his hand to the brim of his hat and wheeled his horse around.

  Sadie stuck with her decision not to go to dinner at the Keep, although she pressed Summer’s dress and insisted on helping her with her hair.

  “Me and the kids will do just fine, Summer. There ain’t no need for old Raccoon to come down. Jack said he wasn’t a goin’ if’n somebody didn’t come to stay, so I says all right, me and old Raccoon will have us a good visit. I know Jack wants to hear all the talk.” She cocked her head, the saucy grin that Summer had seen so seldom lately on her face appeared. “You’re just goin’ to be so pretty, Summer, they ain’t goin’ to be doin’ no talkin’. I reckon Slater’s gonna be proud as punch.”

  Basking in her new-found happiness, Summer radiated a beauty that caused Slater, when he came for her, to pause and stare. His hungry eyes devoured her, drinking in her beauty. His laugh was all pride and tenderness.

  “I’m not sure I want Captain Slane and Jesse Thurston to see you. They’ll want to steal you away.”

  “I’d come right back,” she said simply, and reached to caress his face with her fingertips. The joy of being in love had smoothed the stern lines from his face, and he looked years younger. The men on the Keep were amazed at his even temper and easy camaraderie.

  Slater lifted her carefully and set her sideways in the saddle, then sprang up behind her.

  “Wait until we get away from those watching eyes on the porch,” he said, with a hint of menace in his voice. “I’m going to kiss you and kiss you.”

  “You’ll muss my hair. It took Sadie ever so long to fix it.”

  Being careful not to wrinkle her dress or muss her hair, he put his arms around her and turned the horse toward the Keep.

  “I don’t understand why Sadie was so obstinate about not coming over.” Slater had become fond of the spunky girl, but her moodiness was getting to be irritating.

  “I’m worried about her,” Summer confessed. “Something has happened to make her want to go back to town. She was so happy here, at first. Now, she’s worried and I almost think . . . frightened.”

  “Jack admires her.”

  Summer’s dark head swung around so she could face him. “You mean he’s in love with her?” Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “How do you know?”

  “I didn’t say, ‘in love with her.’ I said ‘admires her.’ ”

  The smile flickered off her face. “Oh, I thought . . .”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not for us to worry about. It’s for them to know if they want to be together.” He kissed the side of her neck. “I don’t like having to be so careful not to muss you. You know what I’d really rather be doing.”

  She laughed softly and turned to kiss him on the lips.

  “Later,” she whispered.

  Captain Kenneth Slane and Jesse Thurston were waiting on the porch with Jack and Bulldog. Slater led Summer forward with a possessive arm about her narrow waist.

  “This is Miss Summer Kuykendall, soon to be my wife,” he announced. “Captain Slane from Fort Croghan, and you’ve met Jesse.”

  The captain’s eyes brightened in appreciation and he clicked his heels together and gave her his most formal bow over the hand she extended.

  “I must congratulate you, Slater.” His eyes drank in the perfect features; the nose, straight and finely boned, the dark brows arched away from eyes that were clear and violet against the thick fringe of jet-black lashes. They stared back at him, vaguely smiling. Under his warm gaze, the creamy skin flushed slightly.

  Summer held her hand out to Jesse. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Thurston.”

  “Nice to see you, ma’am.” The steely-gray eyes looked from her to Slater as he grasped her hand firmly.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll help Teresa with the supper.”

  She escaped into the coolness of the house and stood for a moment trying to still her racing pulses. She wasn’t accustomed to being the center of so much male attention. She headed for the kitchen and Teresa. She was fond of the Mexican woman who had lived so many years on the ranch, who had known Slater’s mother and cared for her.

  This was the first time Jesse had been to McLean’s Keep ranch house, and he looked around appreciatively. The place was solid, permanent, and he had to admit much more to his liking than the fancy frame house at the Rocking S. He had fully expected to see Sadie Bratcher arrive with Summer. The red-haired woman had been in his thoughts of late, and he needed to see her again. He had to get the shadow of her small, frightened face out of the back of his mind and convince himself she was just a woman he felt pity for because she had almost been one of Travis’s victims.

  “I’m convinced the robbings and killings are not being done by Indians, especially because a dead Apache is left every time. There’s just too many loopholes.” Captain Slane paced up and down the veranda as he talked. “They’re not very smart, or they would know Apaches never leave their dead if they can possibly take them away.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Slater said, and told them about the man Sadie shot and about his Indian prisoner. “They’re taking those poor devils alive and killing them at the scene of the robberies. That’s not all, they’re stealing women, too. The Apache that was here had been out looking for his sister.”

  The captain paused in his pacing. “You say Mrs. Bratcher killed the man that shot the boy?”

  “She shore did.” Jack spoke up: “Killed him deader than a doornail.”

  Jesse almost chuckled. Why, that . . . spunky little devil, he thought before he asked:

  “What did the man look like?”

  “Black beard, black hair, teeth broke off in front, riding a red sorrel,
carrying a rifle and a six-gun, but no tucker. Told the women he was lookin’ fer Mr. McLean.”

  Jesse and the captain exchanged glances.

  “Did he have a heap of hair, but a bald spot on top?”

  “Yup. He shore did.”

  “That was Black Bealy, a drifter, outlaw. A no-good bastard that would do most anything for a dollar. He hung out for a while in Hamilton, then came out to the Rocking S looking for work. I sent him packin’. Guess he found him a job after all.” Jesse’s mind was racing to a time he had seen Travis ride away with the man. There was no doubt in Jesse’s mind that Travis was the one he was looking for. There didn’t seem to be any doubt in the captain’s mind either.

  “We’re making a sortie into the hills, Slater. We’d be glad to have you come along.” Captain Slane’s sharp eyes had intercepted the glances exchanged between Slater and Jack.

  “As much as I’d like to, captain, I’ll have to decline. We’re cutting out steers, and after that Summer and I are going to town to be married.” The hard planes of his face relaxed when he grinned. “If we finish in time, I want to take a jaunt into the hills myself for a few days. I don’t like the idea of that bunch coming and going on my land.”

  “Wal, now, Jack and I can do that,” Bulldog snorted. “Take that lit’l gal and go on and get hitched up. Ya ain’t gonna be worth a pinch of snuff till you do.”

  Jesse felt a stab of envy. Slater had found his love and he had the affection and loyalty of his men. Ellen had been so sure Summer would never marry Slater. But even she would have to see the rightness of it. As far as he was concerned, he was glad a nice, gentle girl like Summer had escaped a life of hell with Travis. Each time he caught the intimate glances exchanged between her and Slater, a tide of loneliness swamped him. Behind this, he also felt a stab of regret, so strong that his stout heart almost stopped beating. A love such as they had, one that would result in a family, was not for him. He was committed to Ellen, and after twelve years of constant companionship, he knew her well enough to know she would never share his time or his loyalty with anyone, not even children. Besides, her childbearing years were likely over. And yet . . . the old yearning held a tight grip on his heart. His life, of late, had become strange and empty.

  Later, Jesse excused himself, tightened the cinch on his saddle and rode toward the creek.

  Eleven

  There was a clammy, sick feeling in the pit of Sadie’s stomach. It had lain there now for the past weeks, sapping her strength, eating away at her self-esteem, controlling her thoughts to the extent that she realized her actions were often unreasonable. For the first time in her life, she had been happy, felt she could make a permanent place for herself and Mary, something she had not known before or after she married. She knew when she married Harm Bratcher that he was a devil-may-care drifter, a gambler, a man who was content to live from hand to mouth. He was good to her in his own way and his way was an improvement over her pa’s. Pa had thought women were good for nothing but to work in the fields and produce more babies to grow up to work in the fields.

  The weather was hot and sultry. Not a breath of air circulated to stir the grasses or rouse the drooping leaves on the gigantic oak trees. The silent heat lightning flashed the promise of a storm. Thoughts ran rampant through Sadie’s mind as she watched the rolling thunderclouds. At least a storm was out there in the open, and you knew it was there. Not like Travis McLean, lurking in the hills, waiting to kill a baby because he had a powerful lot of hate for its mother.

  The excitement she felt on hearing Jesse Thurston had come to the Keep had passed. The brief encounter she had with him down by the swing had been crowded from her mind by other worries, although for days after he was gone, she could recall every single word that passed between them. At night, while she lay beside Mary, she fantasized what it would be like to be loved by such a man . . . to couple with him. He would be demanding, she knew, yet gentle; giving thought to her pleasure as well as his own.

  When the rider rode into the yard, Sadie thought it was Jack returning early so Raccoon could go to bed. The man tied his horse to the rail and came to the end of the porch. When the lightning flashed and she saw who it was, she got to her feet and stood on unsteady legs, her heart suddenly galloping in her chest.

  Jesse could see only her blurred outline in the dark. He took off his hat and fumbled in his pocket for his tobacco and felt the peppermint stick. He drew it out and moved toward the white blur.

  “Evening, ma’am.” He held out the slim stick. “I thought your little girl would like another sweet, seeing she’s so fond of them.”

  “Thank you.” Sadie accepted the candy, then asked politely, woodenly, “Won’t you sit down?”

  Raccoon let the chair he had tilted against the wall come down with a thump.

  “How you be, Jesse?” He got up and held out his hand.

  “Fine, Raccoon, just fine.”

  Raccoon settled back down in his chair, wide awake now, and curious as to why Jesse would ride over when all the talk was going on at the other place. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Jack said you were keeping Mrs. Bratcher and the young’uns company. I thought I’d ride over and give you a break till Jack gets here.” Jesse didn’t add that he had overheard a certain conversation between Jack and Bulldog.

  “Ah . . . well . . .” Raccoon said, and a silence followed. In that silence, it suddenly occurred to him that Jesse had come to call on Sadie. “That’s real good of ya, Jesse. I am a mite stoved up. I’ll jist wander on over to the Keep, then, and turn in. It’s been good ta see ya again, Jesse.”

  “It’s been good to see you, Raccoon. Looks like those clouds up there are stirring up a storm.”

  “Yup, sure do. But we need the rain.”

  Events were happening so fast that Sadie’s head was spinning. She wanted Raccoon to go and she wanted him to stay. What she really wanted was for her crazy heart to settle down so she could gather her thoughts into some kind of order before she made a fool of herself.

  “Thanks for staying, Raccoon. I told Jack that we’d be all right, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I’m making doughnuts tomorrow. Come on over and get a batch.”

  “Wal, I reckon I’ll be here if’n I have to swim fer it. And it looks like I jist might hafta. It looks like it’s a rainin’ pitch-forks up in the hills yonder, and if’n it is, that creek thar will rise quicker’n greased lightning.”

  Not a word was spoken between the two left on the veranda until after Raccoon had splashed across the creek. Sadie’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and she kept her eyes on the clouds that were rolling in now, and on the brief forks of lightning that were growing brighter.

  “Storm coming up,” Jesse said. “Acts like a bad one.”

  A backlash of lightning showed momentarily against the overhead blackness, and in that instant Sadie turned her eyes toward him. He was looking at her with deep intensity. She flushed and caught her lower lip between her teeth to stop its trembling.

  “You afraid of storms?” The voice that beat against her eardrums was the well-remembered one from the brief encounter under the cottonwood tree.

  “Not of storms. I’m scared of cyclones, though.” Her voice, coming out of the tightness in her throat, sounded better than she expected, so she added, “I was in a bad one once.”

  Lightning now flashed almost continuously, lighting up the sky weirdly. The bulging clouds were lower and the wind had commenced to stir. Sadie felt detached from the approaching storm. The enchantment of being alone with Jesse Thurston consumed her.

  “I didn’t come just to bring candy.” His voice seemed very near. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m doin’ fine.”

  “Still glad you came here?”

  “Yes. Only . . .”

  “Only . . . what?” Jesse asked. She had known he would, drat it.

  “Nothin’. I don’t know why I said it.”

  “I like to think
of you being here.” He said the words quietly, and she peered at him in the darkness, trying to see the expression on his face. At that moment, a dazzling flash lit up the area, followed instantly by utter darkness and a tremendous clap of thunder that left Sadie with her hands over her ears.

  “Oh . . . the kids will wake up and be scared!”

  Jesse went to the end of the porch and scanned the sky. Without warning, the wind swept through and a few big drops of rain hurled down, plopping on the stone floor. Sadie dashed to pull the flower box, that was full to overflowing with bright marigold blooms, up against the house. Jesse came to help her.

  “I’ll put my horse in the shed.”

  “You better hurry up, or you’ll get a soakin’.”

  Jesse took off at a run, and Sadie watched the wind tearing at his hair and remembered to pick up the hat he’d left lying on the chair. Her heart was singing as she went into the house, fumbled in the darkness for the lamp, lit it, and hurried to the mirror over the washstand. After patting her bronze curls in place, she whipped off her soiled apron and stuffed it under the bunk, pulled the curtain that separated her sleeping quarters from the kitchen and quickly glanced around to be certain everything was neat. Trying to keep the smile off her face, she shook down the ashes, filled the stove with kindling to make a quick fire, and set the coffee pot on to boil.

  She peered out the window. A blaze of lightning showed Jesse racing toward the house. She flung the door open as he got there. He ducked inside just as the storm struck. The rain came in a tremendous sheet and, driven by the powerful wind, hit the side of the cabin with a force that shook the walls.

  Happiness bubbled up in Sadie and she laughed up at Jesse. He laughed with her, and the change in his face was astonishing.

  “Yore all wet! I’ll get you a towel.”

  His gray eyes clung to her face. “I’d a been wetter if you hadn’t a had the door open.” He wiped his face and hair on the towel. At the washstand he washed his hands and used the comb that lay in the comb case attached to the wall. His hair was surprisingly thick and curled back from his forehead in deep waves.